


No Solace For War-Torn Souls

by AnonymusAxolotl



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Thracia 776
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymusAxolotl/pseuds/AnonymusAxolotl
Summary: For as unkind as war is to the people, it is a surprisingly effective way of ensuring you write your own history. Moreso than peace is.Human history rewarded war. It had rewarded the war of the Twelve Crusaders with a prosperous Jugdral in its aftermath. Thracia would’ve never had the chance to move forwards if they stayed at the eternal stalemate they’d been since the Tragedy of the Gáe Bolg. What they’d had before was a tentative peace at best; always just on the edge, but never taking a step forward. What none of them knew at the time was that the true first step would be soaked in their own blood.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Nagamas Gifts





	No Solace For War-Torn Souls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarkoftheAsphodel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarkoftheAsphodel/gifts).



> It's been a while since I last flexed my Jugdral muscles, so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> This fic was a challenge to write, I'm not going to lie there. But finding the thread where the whole fic unraveled before me was incredibly fun, especially since I don't usually deal in such abstract concepts.
> 
> Dear MarkOfTheAsphodel: In reality, I'm a big fan of yours, and I was elated to be able to write for an author within the fandom I look so much towards. I hope it is to your liking!

The seemingly endless clatter of horse hooves had quickly started to drone on Finn. 

After so many battles and so much turmoil over the past 20 or so years of his life, he was surprisingly unused to traveling for long extents of time without an interruption of some kind. A battle, more often than not. But, so far, their trek back through Grannvale was uneventful at best.

It was... weird. Peace was now official, even if the job was still far from over. And regardless of their triumph, it didn’t sit well — it didn’t sit  _ right. _ He thought he’d feel happier when the war ceased. When the battle his lord and lady had died for, and that their children had carried on for them, was over. But instead a feeling of emptiness settled at the edge of his gut and refused to leave. 

It sat there, watching. All too real, growing with every minute that passed.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, swiping the bangs away from his eyes as he pulled his mare to a stop. It was getting late, and they’d need to set up camp. It’d still be a few days before they reached Leonster.

Though during the war campaign they had taken residence at Leonster more than a few times, for more than a few days each, he’d never been there long enough to let it all soak in. His mind was always focused in helping Lord Leif — never his melancholy. But now… Now he was about to go back to the halls where Lord Quan had ruled, and he was going back for good.

It stung a fair amount to think about it. He allowed himself a mournful glance towards his young liege, taking in just how much of Lord Quan and Lady Ethlyn he remembered by looking at their child. If not for him, their faces might’ve long since faded from his war-torn memory.

Really, Finn hadn’t allowed himself a moment of respite, a moment for himself or his family, since the fall of Leonster. He’d failed Nanna and Dermott as a father. Not being there, not accompanying Lachesis when she fled towards Isaac. He’d done it all without a moment’s hesitation out of loyalty towards Lord Leif, but that did not mean he couldn’t allow himself the sorrow of his love lost forever in the bloody desert. Just like how Quan and Ethlyn had been lost.

He’d long stopped deluding himself thinking he would’ve made a difference in Yied — the Gáe Bolg had made no difference, how could he? — but it tugged at his heartstrings regardless. After the news reached him, he vowed to never separate himself from his dead Lord’s son. He vowed to protect his life with absolutely everything he had. And that cost him Lachesis.

This war had just been losses for Finn left and right. Everywhere he looked, someone he held dear would be at death’s doorstep. He was tired of losing people, which is why he fought so hard. Why he dedicated himself so much to his Lord’s cause. He aimed to diminish losses as much as he could. If he was to lose himself to protect his Lord, then so be it. Better him than Lord Leif.

And he’d been successful. He’d successfully lost the man he used to be to the unforgiving fangs of war.

Seventeen long years since the death of Lord Quan, the war with Grannvale was done. And, by extension, the long war that eternally tore northern and southern Thracia. The two provinces were ripe for the picking and perfect for change. In the best spot to move forwards to a brighter future. It was just a shame this long-desired dream had taken so much blood to accomplish.

It was only natural, to be fair. A change like this required a great uprooting of the status quo, and a bloody war was exactly what would be needed to change. There was a reason history books usually glossed over peaceful periods, why kings and queens that reigned in peace were oft forgotten in place of their warmongering counterparts — they were the ones actually writing anything.

Human history rewarded war. It had rewarded the war of the Twelve Crusaders with a prosperous Jugdral in its aftermath. Thracia would’ve never had the chance to move forwards if they stayed at the eternal stalemate they’d been since the Tragedy of the Gáe Bolg. What they’d had before was a tentative peace at best; always just on the edge, but never taking a step forward. What none of them knew at the time was that the true first step would be soaked in their own blood.

That tragedy had been exactly what the people of Jugdral, youth and elders alike, needed to steel themselves. The motivation to dig themselves out of a deep ditch they’d been thrown in by the actions of a foolish and power hungry few. And no one had dug faster than Lord Leif.

If only Lord Quan and Lady Ethlyn could be here to see just how far their son had come, and how far he’d still go. The mewling babe Finn had rescued from the fires of Leonster Castle had grown into a man ready to accomplish what his father hadn’t.

Finn couldn’t be prouder.

* * *

Night fell over them swiftly. 

Nanna and Leif huddled together, close to the fire in comfortable silence.

The breeze that came over them was cold, unyielding. Just like the Yied itself. But for one night, instead of somber, the silence felt mournful, yet hopeful. 

It was as if the earth itself recognized the tolls of this war, and was allowing itself to heal.

He’d not shed a tear in years, but today he was close to.

So much came crashing down on him, so many parts of his life where he regretted not doing better. Nevertheless, what was gone was gone. What had happened had no fixing. Guilt clawed at him over his own failings, but with the prospect of a better future, where those tragedies would become their strength from here onwards, he allowed himself to leave it all behind, if only for a moment. For a moment where he could look past the road and onwards to the destination.

Perhaps he’d take a cue out of all that was happening and would allow himself to move forward. 


End file.
